Guilty Pleasures
by Hannaadi88
Summary: Alfred finds himself dragged into a night out with his friends. But he wasn't expecting... this. /stripper!Arthur x businessman!Alfred/
1. Guilty Pleasures

+ Guilty Pleasures +

-.-.-

* * *

><p>In contrast to the clear and cool night air outside, upon entering the club all of Alfred's senses were stimulated. It was hard to see at first through the thick waves of machine generated smoke drifting in the room, colored by the lights spinning about on the dance floor and the stages. The dense crowd of people swarming together and swaying to the heavy metal beat of the D.J made it hard even to hear yourself think. The smell that attacked him the moment he stepped into the building was that of sweat, perfume, a sickeningly sweet aroma and something slightly... sinister. Dirty.<p>

Blinking in surprise, Alfred turned to the trio he had accompanied from work to the club. "Francis... are you sure this is the right place? I mean, when you said you guys were going to 'eat out', I thought you meant a diner or something...?"

The Frenchman chuckled in response, exchanging a knowing look with the Albino beside them. "Don't worry Alfred- there will be plenty of eating tonight." Gilbert sniggered, leaning forward and brushing his lips against the American's ear, "just don't forget to swallow."

Rightly confused, Alfred simply nodded, laughing along nervously to whatever joke Gilbert seemed to have told. But truly- why were they in a dance club? The only food they'd be able to get would be some beer or cocktail, and Alfred wasn't particularly thirsty. Besides, those were drinks, so they couldn't be food. Then again, soup was also a liquid, but you 'eat' soup-

Alfred's train of thought was cut off when his hand was grabbed by his Spanish co-worker, smiling at him and pulling him forward, into the crowds. They pushed through the swarm of bodies, colliding with others and stepping on a lot of toes. But Antonio didn't seem worried or the least sorry about it, and when Alfred would cast small smiles of apology at whoever he had bumped into, the only response he would get would be a lewd smile and a wink. Bewildered, Alfred kept on following the other, pausing for a moment to look around him. But before he could make a proper statement, his hand was yanked forward and he was forced to continue after Antonio.

"Hey, why are everyone here guys?" he yelled loudly over the music, earning him a few curious glances and snickers from the people he passed. Antonio either didn't hear him or simply chose not to answer- he never did get a proper reply.

Suddenly, Antonio changed their direction drastically and hurried forward, pulling Alfred through a thicker crowd, literally pushing people aside to make way to wherever he was aiming for. This time, Alfred's apologetic smiled didn't have the same effect- the victims of the other's rudeness either glared at him and yelled a stream of curses after them, or just ignored the duo.

After the last man was shoved aside, Alfred's hand was let go. They seemed to have stopped in front of a big wooden stage, the American observed, elevated a bit higher than his head so that he had to look up to see whatever was happening on top of it. Three long metallic poles were installed at different points on the stage, and big crowds gathered on the closest spot near the poles, apparently waiting for something. The pole Antonio had dragged him to was on the farthest to the left, and it seemed as if there were more people waiting at that spot than at others.

"What are we waiting for?" Alfred turned to the Frenchman who had magically appeared at his side, appearing unscathed by the crowds. Francis simply smiled at him, winking secretively. "All in good time, mon ami. We promised you an exciting experience, oui? Rest assured, this will be... a night to remember."

Francis's words were soon drowned out by the sound of applause and whistling when the dancing music suddenly changed into a steadier beat, with instruments other than the usual beat-box pack. A faint female voice began to sing out bits of sentences, cut off by the music every other word. It seemed that whoever had mixed the music did a good job at it, since the crowd obviously loved it.

But a quick glance onstage soon told the truth of the catcalls and grins on the men's faces. At every other beat of the song, with what Alfred could have sworn was 'romance', a man stepped onto the wooden stage, smirking and winking at particulars in the audience while assuming their positions at the poles.

What stunned Alfred the most and for once left him speechless were the outfits the performers sported. He quietly watched with a deep flush heavily made up young men with lean bodies shake their hips in tight leather shorts, corsets around their torso and balancing heeled boots. The only thought that passed his mind was the question of where the hell his co-workers had brought him to.

Suddenly the men nearest to him yelled out loudly, excitement written all across their faces as the last 'romance' of the stanza was heard and a young man appeared behind the curtains and headed their way, his lips sporting a lewd and haughty smirk.

Alfred's flush only deepened with every step the man took towards them. _So this is why Antonio wanted to stand in the front row, _he finally realized with a start. His chest practically pressed against the wood of the stage from the other men pushing against him, Alfred had an excellent view of what, or rather _who, _was on the stage.

And look he did. Alfred had never seen a man who looked so feminine, yet lacked all the innocence of a girl his age. The man's choppy blond hair was tucked under a felt police hat, which was tilted just so on the side of his head with his hand holding onto the hood. Bejeweled green eyes shone in the dim light, black eyeliner which was applied with a skilled hand and thick mascara accenting them in an attractive and dark manner, granting them a sexy allure. A diamond stud flashed in acceptance of the club's spotlights whenever they fell on it.

A white dress-shirt with the collar ripped tightly clung to the performer's chest, revealing his wiry shape to the public. On top of it hung a firmly-tied black tie, much unlike the shirt in its order and propriety. Whoever had tied it certainly knew how to tie business ties, much like the one Alfred himself was wearing at that moment. He hadn't had a chance to go home and change his clothes, and hence he painfully stood out in the crowd of scantly dressed teens and young men.

What made the American's eyes widen and his heart quicken was the raven- black leather corset tightly fastened in a crisscross design behind his back on top of the dress-shirt. It took Alfred's breath away to see the other man's waist emphasized so. Slim, curvy and just _begging_ to be grasped, the shirt tucked into tight fitting shorts and a garter belt hanging by the performer's hips just bellow... he couldn't help but swallow thickly and lean in slightly closer.

Garter strings snaked down the man's thighs and connected the black see-through nylon stalkings to the belt. And to complete the look, what other than long slim and high heeled riding boots would suffice? Perhaps the black leather gloves that covered him up to his forearms.

The blood rushed violently through Alfred's veins to his cheeks, and for some reason his body heat spiked to unbearable in a matter of a few seconds. He pulled uncomfortably at his own tie for some relief from the warmth, not noticing the knowing looks passed between his friends over his shoulders. "Enjoying the show?" Francis whispered in his ear, practically making the American jump. His concentration had been focused on the performer, and he would have much rather leave it that way. But he managed to smile guiltily at the other, feeling as if he had just been caught in a forbidden act.

The song had finally began, the female voice loud and clear, not challenged by the music any longer. As the first words were sung, the performers latched themselves to the pole they were nearest to and began to dance.

_...I want your ugly, I want your disease..._

Alfred's mouth dried as he watched with rapt attention and slight wonder at the blond moving, not too far away for him not to see the muscles moving and the faint flush from the physical effort rise in the dancer's cheeks.

At first, he turned his back to the metal pole, grabbing it over his head and taking a step towards it, back gracefully arched. The leg went forward, resuming its original place and immediately went back again, barely touching the wooden surface before flinging it up into the air in front of him, his whole body flying upwards from the force of the kick. With quick agility, he wrapped his thigh around the pole above his head, his other leg flexed in the air while his skinny arms managed to hold his weight.

After a few moments, he swiftly wrapped the second leg to the pole and raised his torso, slipping halfway down the pole with his body now upright. His hands clutched the metal once more, and he began swirling around slowly, straightening his left thigh and raising it to his forehead, granting a generous view to the eager onlookers. His hands kept going up and down the pole, pumping it with his lips opened ajar, revealing pearly white teeth.

_...I want your everything as long as it's free..._

Finally he fell to the floor, reaching the wooden platform with his legs spread, performing a perfect split with his body turned to the audience. Smiling in self satisfaction at his stunt, green eyes ran over the heads in the crowd until they met a pair of blue, unlike the other irises with the uncertainty and shyness in them. A new customer, it seemed. He kept the man's gaze as he stood up, smiling down seductively. New blood was always refreshing.

Alfred's cheeks flared as his eyes made contact with the dancer's, yet too entranced to tear them away. He continued to watch the other intently as the blond broke the contact with a sly wink and straightened up, turning sideways to face the pole. His arms gripped the metal in front of him as he walked towards it, pressing his body against the pole so that his almost bare thighs wrapped themselves around it.

The beat changed into something quicker, louder, and the dancer's moves became harsher and more forceful. He arched against the pole, bucking his hips forward in a fluid motion. Repeatedly, he moved his pelvis in languid thrusts into the small space between him and the pole, his body moving like a wave and clenching his fists around it whenever his crotch brushed against the cold metal.

Once, he pressed against it too hard. His head snapped back with a silent moan and his eyes searched for blue once more. When he found them, he smirked dirtily at him and licked his lips, loving the way his moves had such an apparent affect on the customer.

_...I want your love..._

Alfred took a step back from the edge of the stage, almost not believing that he was in such a situation. Not believing that a _man _was making him so uncomfortable. Not understanding how he seemed to be the only one who wanted to head for the bathroom.

But the mass of the bodies didn't let him move. And, looking back up at the dancer, his will to leave seemed to have vanished just as fast as the smile slipped on and off the other's lips.

He saw Gilbert glance sideways at him and grin, sharing with him a knowing look. But the American wasn't sure what it was he was supposed to know. Whatever it was, it prompted Gilbert to stuff his hand into his pocket and take out a bundle of dollars that seemed pre- prepared just for this, and waved it over his head for the dancer to notice.

And notice he did. With a lazy look, the performer looked the Albino up and down as far as he could from his height and raised an uninterested brow, reading the numbers on the bills. When Gilbert scowled up at him and dug his hand once more, taking out some more dollars, the dancer pried himself off of the pole and reluctantly walked towards his waiting customer.

He studied the bills and nodded in consent, dropping to his stomach and leaning over the stage, propping his head on his arms with a playful expression. "And what would you like, love?" he purred sultry in a heavy British accent, tilting his head.

Gilbert smirked in response, leaning forward and, to his American companion's shock, pressed his lips against the Brit's. And to Alfred's surprise, the man didn't pull away. While they were kissing, the Albino's hand with the cash took hold of the performer's corset and tucked the bills beneath it, leaving the green dollars to show a bit over the rim of the black material.

For some reason, the sight made Alfred's chest tighten and his brows furrow in a frown. He didn't like the thought of the performer kissing Gilbert. Or anyone else, for that matter.

The dancer seemed to have deemed the time slot the Albino had received over and pulled away, licking his lips and winking at Alfred. Said man simply stared back- how did he know he was watching?

"Would you like to buy me a drink, boy? I'm quite thirsty..."

Alfred started, looking around for the man the Brit had addressed. But when no one moved, and the other's gaze was fixed intently on his face, he realized that perhaps he was the one being talked to. "Me?" he asked softly, wondering why his voice cracked.

The performer seemed to anticipate his answer and grabbed his new costumer's tie, undoing it with a smirk. "Yes, you. You'll be a love and buy me a drink, won't you?" Quite taken with the intimacy and the jealous looks, Alfred simply nodded mutely and took a few steps back to allow the other to jump off the stage.

And so the man did. From his stomach, he straightened up and slung his feet over the edge of the stage, landing nimbly on his feet with a smile. That was the fun with newbies- they'd buy you drinks without you having to do much for them. The regulars already knew how to barter and get exactly what they were paying for. He took the customer's hand and blatantly ignored the crowd around him as he pulled him towards the bar.

Alfred found himself pulled for the second time that night, smiling apologetically at the men he had to push through. But this time, the looks he got were varied- some smiled knowingly at him while other shot him jealous glares. There was no pleasing everyone, was there?

After a short while, the blond stopped and let go of his hand, leaving him in favor of a plush bar stool and a conversation with the bartender. He rightly ignored Alfred who was left standing next to him, slightly embarrassed.

"So I see you found one early," the bartender addressed the dancer in a heavy German accent, nodding his head at Alfred while preparing the other's drink. The performer simply smiled back and accepted his drink, gulping it down while leaning his chest against the bar. "I suppose," he drawled in a bored tone, glancing at his benefactor. "Won't you like something to drink, love? The night doesn't start until you've got some in your system."

Alfred's cheeks reddened at finally being addressed directly, shaking his head. "N-no, I don't think so. I'm driving, and..."

The dancer seemed to have lost all interest at that, cutting into his excuse. "I see. Well, if you ever want anything, just call for me." He delved his hand into his back-pocket (that Alfred didn't even notice before) and pulled out a gleaming business card. With a seductive smile, he leaned forward and stuck it inside Alfred's breast pocket, patting it through the material once it was securely placed. "See you around, cougar."

And with a wink, he jumped off his seat and headed back towards the stage.

Left gaping, Alfred looked after the man, watching how his hips were gripped by another as soon as he had left him. It seemed like the dancer really was in high demand. He took out the card carefully and glanced down , raising a brow at the garish design. "Peridot- let me entertain you...?" he read out, blinking at the neat penmanship.

Shrugging, he tucked the card into his pocket and turned around, deciding that he had had enough for the night. But the gruff German voice behind him stopped him on his tracks. "Twenty dollars for the Cherry Hooker, please."

Alfred turned around, surprised. "_Twenty dollars_ for what?"

The bartender, seemingly used to the surprise, simply repeated his demand. "Twenty dollars for the drink you bought Peridot."

The American stared for a moment, not sure how to respond. Who charged twenty dollars for a mere drink? But the barman looked like he knew what he was talking about, and the bulging muscles under his shirt were showing all too clearly. Not that Alfred couldn't take him on- he was just tired from a day of work and slightly confused by his surroundings. So with a reluctant sigh, he dug his hand into his pocket and fished out a twenty dollar bill, handing it over to the man with a scowl.

Fuming, he turned around once more and headed out towards the exit, not bothering to try to find his co-workers, who seemed to have vanished. They would have to find a different way back home, he thought sourly as he passed by the guard and walked up to his car, unlocking it and stepping inside onto the driver's seat.

Guilty Pleasures was an experience he'd rather forget.

But when he reached his home and prepared himself for bed, he felt an extra weight in his breast pocket. Sitting on his bed, he pulled the card out and peered at it, wondering what it was about that blond called Peridot that enticed him so.

Perhaps he could afford another trip.

* * *

><p><em>Hanna Chan's Blah-Blah Corner;<em>

_Ahaha. Yes. I know. I haven't posted something in ages. But now that I'm on vacation, you should be expecting more from me ;D In any case, the story..._

_If you haven't guessed, Peridot is our beloved Arthur. Thank you DestinyShiva for coming up with the befiting name *hearts* And that aside, I'd like to ask a question. This was intended as a oneshot, but if there are enough people that request more, then I have a perfect plot full of all the right things- sex, danger, love, guns and whatnot? I mean, this is a stripper club XD Poor Alfred doesn't know what he got himself..._

_This is the first time I've written something like this, so please forgive me if I make any mistakes or someone doesn't sound in character ^^; I'm doing my best._

_So please don't forget to review? :D_

_-Hanna_


	2. Forbidden Fruit

"Alfred, a word?"

Looking up from his papers, said man met a pair of narrowed eyes, framed by carefully manicured brows. Francis was leaning down over him with a careful smile, nodding towards the door. Whatever he wanted to tell him, it couldn't be done in front of the other clerks. Sighing, he folded the documents he was working on and slowly stood up, ignoring the glares he got from his fellow coworkers at the disruptive sound of his chair creaking. He made a mental note to talk to the custodian about replacing it later on.

He reluctantly followed the Frenchman out of the plain office (while he wasn't picky or a perfectionist, it would be nicer to have a painting or two to grant a pleasant atmosphere), dread building in the pit of his abdomen at the sight of the other two who were waiting for them next to the water fountain. Their faces were masked, but Alfred could easily guess the reason for this uncalled meeting.

"Hey," he greeted them, earning a small smile from the Spaniard and a nod of acknowledgment from the albino. Looking into his face, the memory of his kissing Peridot in front of him the other night resurfaced, causing his smile to falter into something more serious. He wasn't sure why, but he didn't enjoy recalling it.

Once reaching the others, Francis left his side and joined his friends, the three of them crowding around him, pushing him against the wall with their intense gaze. "Well?" Antonio tilted his head, green eyes pouring into his.

"Well, what?" Alfred asked, his voice laced with unease. He wasn't used to the hard looks on his colleagues' faces, or the accusing tone they were addressing him in.

Francis frowned, the crease between his brows deepening. "Well, where were you last night?" His friends nodded, agitated expressions featuring their faces. "Yeah, why did ya ditch us?" the albino questioned further, leaning in.

"I-I'm sorry," Alfred stammered, slightly intimidated, "I didn't see you guys, and I thought you already left-" he was cut in by Antonio, who had crossed his arms against his chest. "You could have called then, amigo. In the end we had to pay for a taxi ride home, and you know how much it costs."

Guilt surfaced in the American's chest as he looked at his friends. He had abandoned them in a questionable place without any means of returning home, only because of his own anger than had nothing to do with them. He hung his head and bit his lip, avoiding their accusing gazes. They were his only friends in the company, seeing as everyone else were too focused on their own promotions and raises to make any real friendships. Aside from his brother, that is, who always spared him a smile, but was just as serious about his job as the rest.

The three in front of him were practically the only ones in his department that cared about more than just work. He didn't want to loose their liveliness, and especially didn't want to get on their bad side.

"How much did the ride cost? I'll pay you all back," he offered finally, hoping that the money would make amends. It would probably set him back for a while, but the laughs he shared with them were far more precious to him than any movie or other attraction.

But a pair of emerald irises pierced his mind, and he suddenly wished he had offered something else.

A sly smile stretched upon Francis's lips as he took a step back and patted Alfred's shoulder, loosing all air of intimidation. "Ah, I was hoping you would say that. But I have a better idea-" he shared a look with the others, who had also loosened their stance and were grinning broadly at him. "How about you make it up to us in the club? Buy us a drink or something? It costs around the same thing, as you probably know by now," he chuckled at the rising scarlet in the other's cheeks. It had been amusing to hear about Alfred's first encounter with the prices from Ludwig, who had tended the bar at the time. Endearing, even.

Swallowing thickly, Alfred raised his eyes and looked pleadingly at the Frenchman. If Francis had heard about his ignorance, then everyone were probably laughing about him behind his back at that very moment. The crowds, the performers... Peridot. He realized that it would be close to mortifying to set a foot in that place ever again. "Um, any chance I could just give you the money, and you'll spend it however you want?"

Francis tutted, wrapping his arm around his shoulder and pulling him forward. "Non, mon cher. We aren't evil mafia members- if you're to pay for our pleasure, then the least we could do for you is to ensure yours. Come with us, oui?" The other two nodded, smiling reassuringly.

The general effect they had on Alfred was calming, and perhaps against his better judgment, he agreed. After all, with the trio around him, who would dare laugh in his face? And he did want to go back there at some point... "Alright," he conceded, smiling. "Saturday night, my treat."

At that rate, he'd be stuck in flat city for a while.

-o-

Entering the club with a bit more confidence than before, Alfred breathed in the pounding music and husky scent. As they stepped inside, he realized with blatant disappointment that they were a bit late. The show was already over, and the dancers were walking around and entertaining customers. How was he supposed to find-

Alfred shook his head savagely to his companions' surprise, trying to forget his own intentions. Tonight was about repaying his friends and watching them have a good time, while trying his best not to make a scene. No one seemed to stare at him strangely when he walked in, oddly enough, and the nervousness he had felt before entering the club seemed to melt with every smile.

None of his friends seemed to be worried about missing the show, though. While people smiled kindly at Alfred, their recognition and shouts of welcome were aimed at the trio, who responded just as happily. It seemed as if they were regulars, Alfred noted to himself as he continued walking with them, looking around and peering at the gaudy costumes some of the men were wearing. While not in his business suit, his casual t-shirt and jeans still looked dressy compared to some of the outfits others were wearing. Feathers, sparkling necklaces and glitter... the oddities half intrigued, half put him off.

"So, how about a drink, Alfred?" Antonio addressed him, smiling his sunbathing smile. Well, that was how one felt after being smiled at like that- sunbathed. Alfred couldn't help but smile back, even though he knew what submitting would cost him. "Sure," he said quickly, trying to sound enthusiastic. And perhaps that was what he needed- a drink. Something to loosen him up, to make his own smile as ready as some of the men he'd seen around him. After all, he had a load of cash on him- this was officially a night out. It was time to splurge and indulge.

Antonio didn't need any more encouragement before grabbing his hand just like before and pulling him towards the bar, excitement written on his face. Francis and Gilbert trailed behind, chuckling at the sight of their friend dragging the innocent but charming American, just as set on using his money as the Spaniard. But it was all in good cheer, wasn't it?

The four of them seated themselves on the bar stools. Alfred found himself trapped between a lively Antonio and a grinning Gilbert, who smiled lewdly at the bartender in front of them, grabbing his attention from the other customers. "A French Connection, Caju Amigo and Zombie for us," he ordered, catching the man's eye. The other nodded at the regulars, turning to Alfred with a raised brow. "And for you, sugar?"

Alfred reddened at the question, not exactly sure as to what drink to order. Aside from different brands of beer and ginger ale, he didn't know much about cocktails. He opened his mouth to order a Heineken when Gilbert beat him to it. "A Hairy Virgin for him," he called out, grinning wickedly at his companion.

The barman hid a smile and set to work, pouring and mixing the drinks and serving them with a flourish. Alfred watched his hands, transfixed, as they created the ordered beverages, paling slightly at the rum being poured into his own glass. He'd never tasted rum before, and to try it out with a bunch of exports for the first time...

But as the other three accepted their drinks and sipped at them eagerly, raising their glasses to toast to their 'generous benefactor', he couldn't ignore the drink in his hand and drank to his health as well, gagging on the strong taste at first. Gilbert saw this and set down his own glass, smirking. "What, too strong for you?" he jeered, color beginning to rise in his cheeks as the alcohol warmed his throat.

"Of course not!" Alfred replied crossly, glaring. To prove his point, he raised his glass and drank the rest in one gulp, doing his best not to cringe. He placed the cup down on the bar with a steady thud, giving the albino a challenging gaze. The other narrowed his eyes, thinking of a retort. But before he could say a word, Francis had stood up and placed his arm on his shoulder, whispering something in his ear that apparently placated him. He then took Alfred's hand and pulled him off the seat, smiling. "Come- let's dance."

Exchanging a promise of payment to the bartender, the Frenchman guided Alfred to the dance floor, the frenzy lights passing over his blond hair and granting it pink and green highlights upon occasion. Upon reaching the middle of the floor, he grabbed the other's waist and pulled him close, moving his hips to the beat.

Eyes widening, Alfred pulled away violently, disrupting the couple behind him. "W-what are you doing?" he asked shrilly, earning surprised looks from all around. Francis looked just as surprised and mildly embarrassed, smiling reassuringly at his companion. "Dancing," he said smoothly, taking a step closer and offering him his hand. "That's how you do it. Would you like me to teach you?"

Biting his lip, Alfred looked around, cheeks reddening at the attention. He hesitantly walked towards the Frenchman, mentally slapping himself for making a scene again, when he saw him.

In tight fitting shorts and a police uniform jacket, Peridot was walking around the room, throwing smiles all around, more often than not a wink accompanying the gesture. His tall black boots covered most of his calves, and the felt police hat that he had worn last time Alfred had seen him was still covering his blond tresses.

Alfred's breath hitched in his throat as excitement built in his chest, looking over Francis's shoulder in a transfixed gaze. The Frenchman looked slightly taken aback, probably wondering how he'd been able to get such a reaction from the other in such a short time. But one glance in the direction Alfred was looking was all he needed to understand the situation. Smirking, he slung his arm around the other's shoulder and turned sideways, pressing his lips against Alfred's ear.

"You like him?" the Frenchman whispered lowly, causing Alfred to shiver. He nodded mutely and continued to watch the Brit strut around, leaning against a wall. "You see how his legs are crossed, and you want them around you, just like that?" Francis continued, voice as seductive as ever. Alfred gulped, the image of Peridot's thighs clutching around his waist, pulling him deeper inside him claiming his mind.

"You look at his neck, so vulnerable and pale, waiting to be nipped?" Alfred licked his lips, picturing his lips latched to the soft skin, feeling the vibrations of his moans on his tongue, sucking erotically and hard, making sure to leave his mark for the world to see. For a man of his profession, it was surprising that the Englishman's neck was untouched.

His mouth went dry at Francis's next words. "And you want to make him yours?"

He moaned lowly, eyes hazed. The heat was unbearable, the tightness in his pants hard to hide. Francis looked down and smiled smugly, proud of his work. "Then go and- oh."

Blinking in confusion, Alfred looked to see what had stopped the other's words. And what he saw made his wildly beating heart stop, a sudden chill replace the heat. His object of lust had left his perch against the wall and was heading towards a waiting customer, straightening his jacket and visibly sighing when he stopped in front of the man calling his name.

"Alfred-"

But it was too late- Alfred had already pulled away and stormed towards the couple, face still red from arousal, but the heat of anger adding to it. He stopped in front of them, breathing in sharply.

To Alfred's shock, the man had Peridot in between his legs, placing and supporting his knees on the small space between his crotch and the edge of the chair, pushing slightly against his groin. He had caught them while the stripper was leaning forward, sucking on the customer's earlobe while the other had his hands on his hips, pulling him closer. His eyes were closed, enjoying the dual sensations.

At Alfred's approach, though, his eyes fluttered open. When he saw who it was he smiled smugly, tightening his grip on Peridot's hips. "Hey Alfred. Fancy seeing you here." The stripper stopped what he was doing, remaining on the chair while turning his head back to see what was going on. When his eyes met blue, he smiled in recognition, smirking slightly. "Nice to see you again...Alfred."

Alfred's eyes narrowed, feeling the anger boil inside him. "Fuck you, Gilbert," he muttered from behind gritted teeth, seething. He wanted to punch the albino straight out of the club for touching what was his, but as long as Peridot was between them, he couldn't do a thing.

"I bet you'd love to," the other replied, chuckling. He leaned forward and whispered something in the blond's ear, who nodded shortly. His hips were let go, and instead he shifted his body so that he was straddling Gilbert's thigh, hands clasped around his shoulders as he began to push down and grind onto his patron. The albino spared Alfred a superior look before closing his eyes once more, exhaling in pleasure.

Not able to take another second of it, Alfred turned around and stormed out of the building, not caring when he bumped into people who protested loudly and not bothering to look back when his name was called. He ignored his car, preferring to walk home with a drink and a stomach load of bitterness eating at him. He had to prove himself to the albino, to show that he was the better man. He'd never make such a fool of him in public again. But what could he do to prove it?

_...I'll make Peridot mine._

* * *

><p><em>Hanna Chan's Blah-Blah Corner;<em>

_*puffs out cheeks* Well. After such an enthusiastic call for my continuing this, I couldn't just leave it, could I? *grin* So there you go- the second chapter of Guilty Pleasures. I know, it doesn't have much of Arthur, but it was essential for the progression of the plot. And yes, he'll be called Arthur soon *wink* _

_I'd really like to thank every single person who left a review. It takes a lot to motivate me, and the huge wave of positive feedback did the trick for me ;w; Really, if you can just leave a kind word (or a critical one, depending on your opinion of my writing), it could make the difference from a new chapter or no chapter at all, knowing me OTL So yeah. _

_I love you all! *hearts*_

_-Hanna_


	3. Pursuit of Happiness

It was still dark outside when Alfred walked back to the club, taking a bus from his apartment to the nearest stop. Surprisingly, it didn't take longer than forty minutes or so- perhaps it was a safer way to get to and from Guilty Pleasures. Without his car, he could drink as much as he wanted and not have to walk back the next day and retrieve it from the club's parking lot, as he was doing at that moment.

He wasn't sure when the club officially opened its doors, so there he was at six in the morning, trying to find his car in the parking lot right behind the building. It seemed as if they were still closed, Alfred noted to himself as he stepped into his car. The place was deserted. _Oh, well, they probably open only around evening, _he concluded while pulling out, taking one last sweeping look at the relatively plain facade of the club. Just by the look of it, no one would be able to guess what was going on inside. It was a wonder how so many people knew about it. Then again, if most of the guests were anything like Francis, then the whole world should have known about its existence by then.

The trip home was quick, as the Sunday morning traffic had only started to build up by the time he turned the key in his lock and entered his apartment, closing the door behind him with a determined thud. He had a lot to do and little time to do it, as the common phrase went. If he was to woo said Peridot, he had to gather information, equip himself with the proper weapons and train. It was just like one of his old video games, in which you had to conquer your enemy through battle. And really, in this case the goal was the same- to defeat your rival. Be it with military force or by stealing his man, the strategies were the same.

As the saying said- all is fair in love and war. And this was a heady mixture of both.

First off, he needed the right clothing, since his own attire usually clashed dramatically with the crowd that frequented the club. Rushing into the kitchen, he grabbed all the small cash he stowed in the cookie jar for emergencies and headed back into the living room, ready to blaze the trail to the nearest clothing store. On the way out, though, a flashing red light on his receiver stopped him. Curious, he walked up toward the machine and clicked the voice mail button, wondering who had called him so early on in the morning.

A familiar, clear and ever suave voice filled the silence of his apartment a few seconds later. "Alfred, mon cher. I wanted to apologize for Gilbert's behavior last night, even though he refuses to do so himself. We won't be around this week- Gil, don't touch that!- so would you please tell monsieur Vergas that we are, well, visiting my sick aunt in Paris? Oui, that's it. She's really sick, the poor thing. In any case- _fine_, I'll ask him- you'll tell him, won't you? And Antonio would be forever grateful if you sent his regards to Vergas. Cest fini. Merci! Gros bisous!"

It took Alfred a few seconds to register Francis's request, the background noise of laughter and loud music almost overcoming the Frenchman's voice. But once he did, a big smile stretched across his face and his eyes sparkled with excitement. Unknowingly, the other had awarded him a priceless gift upon his departure. Without the three of them in town, Alfred would have free reign over the club. He'd be able to do his research without disturbance or any distraction. He'd miss their company during work hours, but the plentiful time slot was worth it.

With renewed determination, he left his apartment and closed the door behind him, ready to hit town. Mission impossible had just become attainable.

-0-

_Mission Number One- Superstar Me_

-0-

Parking his car in front of a store, Alfred stepped out of his vehicle, blinking at the large sign greeting him upon his entrance into the shopping district. "Butler, Collection For Men," he read aloud, squinting against the bright morning sun. Seeing as it was the first store on the street, he shrugged and walked inside, staring at the formal wear engulfing him.

Suits, jackets, sweaters, belts and vests galore, this store seemed to provide the top clothing for any formal event. Exactly the opposite of what Alfred needed. Sighing, he turned back, ready to venture outside once more in the search of his new wardrobe. He almost made it outside when a clear female voice stopped him on his tracks.

"May I help you?"

Turning around, Alfred's eyes came upon the speaker. A young woman who looked in her mid twenties was smiling at him, chestnut brown hair framing her hazelnut eyes. The white t-shirt and jeans she was wearing seemed to contrast the merchandise she was supposed to sell, and Alfred wondered if she could perhaps point out to him a store that would cater to his needs. Even with her thick Hungarian accent, she looked like someone who would know.

Alfred cleared his throat, smiling his usual sunny smile at her. "Yeah. Um, I was wondering if you knew any good store for, er, casual clothing?"

The smile on the woman's face disappeared as soon as the words came out of his mouth. "You have the audacity to come into a clothing store and ask the salesperson for a recommendation of a different chain? Who do you think you are?" she asked crossly, narrowing her eyes and folding her arms across her chest suspiciously, tilting her hip to the side. Alfred blinked at her in confusion for a moment, wondering where she had gotten her good English, before realizing that she was waiting for an answer.

"I-I'm sorry. I mean, I'm not good at clothing shopping, and you just looked like someone who gets this stuff, and-"

He was cut off by an excited gasp, followed by a pair of brown eyes too close to him for comfort. Taking a step back, Alfred wondered how this woman seemed to change moods so quickly- and creep up on people without them realizing until the last minute.

The happy expression on the woman's face was back, and she smiled up at Alfred from her sudden close proximity, beaming. "Oooh, I always wanted to be a personal shopper!" she exclaimed, looking him up and down. Nodding in satisfaction, she took a few strides back and walked around him, taking in his whole appearance. Once done surveying her canvas, she offered her hand with a professional air. "My name is Elizaveta. What type of clothing are you looking for?"

Relieved that he was finally going to get the help he needed, Alfred allowed himself to be looked over, not really caring. He never was one to doubt his looks- from a young age everyone around him had drilled him with compliments, granting him favors and dates based on his looks alone. The only one who seemed to be immune to his face was Peridot.

"Nice to meet you. My name is Alfred," he took her hand, shooting her one of his infamous grins. "Well, I want to go clubbing-" He was cut off once more by a sharp gaze. "Straight or gay?"

Alfred blinked, his grip of Elizaveta's hand slacken. "Excuse me?" he asked, not quite sure if he had heard correctly. The Hungarian simply continued to look at him seriously as she repeated her question. "Straight or gay?" At his shocked expression, she sighed, shaking her head. "Who are you trying to attract? Men and women are attracted to different things," she explained slowly, as if speaking to a small child.

Nodding his head in understanding, Alfred let the other's hand drop as he tucked his own into his pocket, looking down at the floor. Heat flooded his cheeks as he tried to compose an answer. He was trying to attract a man, yes- but did that make him gay? Did he, the ladies' charmer, fit the label of homosexual? Alfred F. Jones, a homo?

"Er, I'm trying to attract a certain man," he admitted quietly, trying to avoid Elizaveta's gaze. A second later, when he realized what he had said, he raised his head and tried to meet the other's eyes. "N-not that I'm gay or anything! It doesn't mean a thing!" Alfred tried to clarify, dismay and embarrassment growing from the knowing look the Hungarian gave him.

She hooked her arm with his, leading the slightly baffled man out of the door, locking up after them. "Of course you aren't," she purred, practically petting his arm, as if to soothe him. Alfred squirmed slightly in her grasp, feeling slightly unnerved by the sudden obsessiveness in her voice.

"Come. Let's go find something to woo prince charming with."

-0-

_Mission Number Two- I Spy With My Little Eye_

-0-

Sipping on his Carlsbourg, Alfred reclined in his bar stool as far as he could, conversing lightly with the man standing beside him. The music had already began, and it was already ten thirty. Why weren't there that many people yet strutting their stuff on the dance floor? Where were everyone?

"No one really comes until eleven, y'know."

Alfred turned around, meeting the gaze of a tall, red headed man. He had to look up to look him in the eyes, and the fact aggravated him slightly, but he smiled back nevertheless. "Oh, right. Totally knew that. I'm just... hangin' around. Yeah. Thanks, anyway."

The man raised a brow and took a seat next to him, leaning his back against the bar counter. "Of course you are. But by doing that, you're being rude. How about a dance?" he addressed Alfred further in his light Scottish accent, taking the other's hand in his own and rubbing his thumb over the skin, winking suggestively.

"O-oh," Alfred blinked, a slight flush cursing his cheeks. "I...sorry, but I don't dance."

The other smirked and leaned towards him, brushing his lips against Alfred's ear. "No worries- I'll be doing all the dancing." He placed his hand on the American's thigh, squeezing it through his jeans. "Unless, you'd like something else?"

Alfred made a small sound and jumped off his stool, taking a few steps back. "Who are you?" he exclaimed, covering the ear the other had came in contact with self consciously. The other simply chuckled lowly before taking a step further, grasping his wrist.

"To you, I'm Shameus," he whispered, tightening his grasp. "And I can do wonders for you. You're lonely, aren't you? You want someone to dominate you, to push you down and claim your body. Well," he took a step back, releasing his grip. "I'm your man."

Eyes widening, Alfred suddenly realized that one of the strippers of the club had approached him. A small voice inside him wanted to try Shameus out, to show him he wouldn't be dominated by anyone. But he didn't have the time- the focus of his night was on finding Peridot and seeing if his clothes had any affect on him.

"Sorry, but... no. Maybe another time," Alfred excused himself and all but ran away, a flustered expression on his face as he mingled with the now steady stream of people walking into the building.

The music grew louder, and the pulse of the people around him stronger. Alfred began moving awkwardly in the crowd, bumping into a few people. A small, deserted corner called to him in the distance, and he made his way through the swarm, freezing when a hand suddenly gripped his ass from behind. Turning around with a red face, blue eyes met emerald.

Peridot was looking at him with a wolfish grin, tight plaid pants and a ripped, sleeveless black shirt showing off his skin deliciously. "Hullo, love," he greeted him, licking his lower lip slowly. From the close proximity, Alfred could smell the alcohol on his breath.

A sudden wave of nervousness washed over him. This half drunken and ever alluring Peridot was both intimidating and yet, calling out to him with every sense. His eyes feasted on the exposed skin, the heady scent of his body and the warmth lighting a fire in the pit of his stomach.

But he couldn't face the other like this. He wasn't ready for such an encounter, especially since he wasn't the one to initiate it. With a shaky breath, Alfred pushed the other away, regret and slight fear reflecting in his eyes. "I-I'm sorry," he uttered before turning around and rushing towards the exit, pushing through the bodies. The moment he stepped out of the club, he inhaled deeply, taking in the cool evening air.

He needed some more time.

-0-

_Mission Number Three- A Rose For A Rose_

-0-

He hadn't wanted to- especially not after the inviting look the night before. But if Alfred was to stick to his plan, he needed to make his appearance that day the only one Peridot would see of him. So against his will, he stayed home Sunday night, watching a movie alone in his apartment and catching up on work. Matthew was having enough of a job trying to cover up for his negligence- he owed him the smallest of effort on his part.

It was a lonely, uneventful evening. But while Alfred sat in his armchair, he planned every last detail of his final act, envisioning it in his mind.

_Alfred entered the club, his trademark smile on his face and a ray of gold surrounding him. Everyone he'd pass would stop in their tracks and stare, some with a jealous exterior and the most with an admiring expression. A few girls appeared next to him magically, gripping his arms to feel his muscles and simply fawning over him, giggling and ogling him to their hearts' content._

_But, of course, they weren't the ones Alfred had meant to attract. He'd shake them off gently and make his way to the center if the room, where a certain someone would be standing. And indeed, there was Peridot, surrounded by a few of his customers. _

_The room went quiet as Peridot raised his eyes over one of the others' head_ _and suddenly met his own, eyes widening at Alfred's appearance. He stayed still, as if still registering his awesome residence before pushing the man next to him aside and taking a few steps closer, hesitating._

_Alfred grinned knowingly and walked up to the dancer, stopping a breath before him and taking his hand, raising it to his lips and kissing the skin gently. A brilliant shade of red claimed Peridot's cheeks as he raised his gaze from the floor, their eyes interlocking once more. _

_"Alfred?"_

_With a nod, Alfred let go of the other's hand and placed his own on Peridot's cheek, caressing it fleetingly before leaning in. "I'm here for you," he whispered in a husky voice, eyes glazed with a thin layer of lust._

_A breathless sigh left Peridot's lips as he wrapped his arms around Alfred's neck in full view of the whole club, who had turned to stare at the couple. "Kiss me," he demanded lowly, running a lithe finger up Alfred's spine until he reached his hairline, alternating to rubbing the pad of his index finger in a circular motion while looking up at the taller man, fire blazing in his eyes._

_"With pleasure," Alfred murmured before leaning forward and closing the gap between their mouths, eyes fluttering close as his arms wrapped around the other's waist, pulling him closer to his body. Peridot pushed against his mouth forcefully, quickly parting his own lips for his tongue to dart out-_

Alfred shot up in his chair, gripping the armrests in alarm. Panting, he looked down at the floor, where his sudden jolt had sent his phone. It was vibrating on the wooden parquet, beeping and flashing white on the small screen. With a groan, Alfred rubbed his temples soothingly before bending forward and picking the noxious up and pressing fiercely on the mute button, shutting the god forsaken object up.

It had disrupted such a wonderful dream. And for what? For some stupid alarm he didn't even remember setting.

His eyes widened in excitement as he rushed out of the chair, heading towards the bathroom. Of course! How could he have forgotten? He was going to the club he had just dreamed about moments ago! The alarm was a simple reminder, but obviously did its job.

He entered the room, walking up to the sink and turning on the water, letting it pool in his palms for a moment before raising his hands to his face and letting the cool liquid fall down his skin. Alfred breathed in deeply, gripping the sides of the sink and raising his head to look at himself in the mirror, expression set and determined.

Tonight was his night, and he wasn't going to mess it up. Not this time.

-o-

He was late, of course. Just as he had planned. It was early in the morning- four o' five, to be exact- around the time the club closed. Alfred leaned against the wall, watching as the crowds poured out of the doors slowly, some clubbers supported by their friends as they were too drunk to walk themselves. It was chilly, and Alfred shivered at the cold air as it blowed over his wet hair, slicked back and shiny against the dim light coming from the open doors.

Finally, just when he was about to give up and head back home- Peridot had still not left. Perhaps he walked out before Alfred reached the place- a certain blond opened the door with one hand, supporting a cigarette with the other.

In his long black pants and leather jacket, Peridot looked like any random passerby. It made it slightly easier for Alfred to approach him as he passed by without looking at him, swallowing nervously before calling out. "Hey!"

Peridot stopped and turned his head back, blinking and frowning. Alfred had yet to see the other frown, but he tried to keep the small smile on his face as he walked towards him, a small blush on his face. The other simply stared at him blankly, turning fully around and tilting his hip to the side, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and blowing out the smoke with a raised brow. "Yes?"

Taking a deep breath with slightly more confidence, Alfred looked up at the other. "I- do you remember me? Alfred?"

The other narrowed his eyes as if trying to remember something before recognition reflected in his eyes. "Oh yes. Alfred." He looked him over, scanning his apparel before taking a drag from his cigarette and giving Alfred a bored look. "Sorry, but I don't work after hours."

A deep flush took over Alfred's cheeks as he answered. "No! I mean, no, I don't want... anything from you. In face, I... I have something for you." Alfred smiled, trying to sound suave as he took his hand out from behind his back and produced a single rose, the dark and rich red color visible in the dim lighting.

Peridot's eyes widened as he took in the sight of Alfred with a rose, immediately narrowing and scanning the other's face, obviously suspicious. He probably thought that it was some sort of joke. But when Alfred continued standing there with the flower suspended in the air, unfazed by his glare, he sighed and carefully took it from his grasp, looking it over cautiously.

"It's for you," Alfred said softly, smiling gently. "Do you like it?"

The dancer met Alfred's gaze, his expression that of one taken aback. He opened his mouth to say something, but apparently thought it over and closed it, shaking his head. He turned around and began walking away, pausing in front of a trashcan and dropping the rose into it before looking back, face stony.

"I am not going to be bought over, if that's what you're suggesting. If you want something, you're going to have to pay for it." Peridot paused, his gaze flickered to the club for a moment, his eyes revealing obvious dislike before they settled back on Alfred. Without another word, he turned his head back and continued walking.

Alfred looked at his retreating form, eyes wide and his nails digging into the palm of his hand. He had somehow messed up again. He took a few steps forward and peered down into the garbage can, his face giving into a sad frown.

As he looked up, his face was determined. Gilbert or no Gilbert, Peridot was going to fall for him, like it or not. For the best or for the worse, he'd have him in his arms in no time flat. After all, he was Alfred fucking Jones, and he always got what he wanted.

Always.

* * *

><p><em>Hanna Chan's Blah-Blah Corner;<em>

_Sooo. This took so long to write *headdesk* I'm really sorry. I just.. lack of motivation? ^^' But every time I got a review, I was filled with so much happiness that I continued the chapter a little bit. It was my latest review by Yaoi- san and Minty- chan that helped me get a grip and finish this *beams* Thank you *hearts*_

_Alright. This chapter. Do I have anything to say about it...? Hm. Not really, to be honest. All I know is that I loved writing it XD Yes, the Scottish stripper would be Scotland, and Elizaveta is herself *grin* I hope no one is too out of character. And Alfie will get some balls soon, no worries ;D_

_Now, to answer some questions and comments. Someone asked me how I came up with the name Peridot for Arthur. I think I said this before, but my good friend (you should really look up her stories- she's amazing with words) DestinyShiva is the one who came up with it. I asked her what would be the best stripper name for Arthur, and she came up with it *smile* It is quite fitting, isn't it? *fans self*_

_In any case, I should just stop rambling and publish this. Please review if you liked this *holds out platter of cookies* I-I'm not begging or anything. But it would really help my motivation, y'know? *twiddles thumbs* Bribing you? Moi? Of course not!_

_...love you all~_

_-Hanna_


End file.
